


Admissura

by Big_Spicy_Garlean_Fucker



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Age Difference, Blue Balls, Breeding, Cock and also Balls, Come Inflation, Discussion of Male Pregnancy, Edging, Fake Science, Fingering, Genetically Engineered Beings, Intersex, Large Cock, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Humiliation, Mind Reading, Muscles, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Out of Character, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resonance, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Size Kink, Squirting, Sthenolagnia, The Resonant (Final Fantasy XIV), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Varis’s Fat Nuts, Weight Kink, Wet & Messy, dubcon, excessive precum, fat kink, hyper cock, its me you know i have to have that in there somewhere, leaking through clothes, weight appreciation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Spicy_Garlean_Fucker/pseuds/Big_Spicy_Garlean_Fucker
Summary: Admissura  - The catch-all term for Breeding/Generation/Service in Garlean.Varis zos Galvus ponders the future of the Empire and realizes that Zenos sure as hell isn't going to rule it. But who will? A new Galvus heir, that's who. And so Varis decides to make one.[Written accidentally while procrastinating NaNoWriMo '19. Crude, nasty, filthy porn. God has left the building.]
Relationships: Varis zos Galvus/Lucius Batiatus, Varis zos Galvus/Original Character(s), Varis zos Galvus/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (The tags are setup for chapter 2. This first chapter here is pretty tame but yeah just so you know what you're getting into...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This fic is the written equivalent of an amateur porno, the kind that would raise eyebrows at your cable bill. A freeform writing exercise of sorts that kinda grew out of hand. Heed the warnings and gird your loins, fellow epic gamers!]
> 
> [Varis in this fic is written to have had a past arranged marriage he did not enjoy, and a sexuality firmly running gay. This is not an objective statement, it’s just how I’ve characterised him here. Reminder that this story may read as dubcon, as both characters are compelled by mutual attraction to bone each other without any pre-existing relationship. It’s porn. Extremely filthy breeding porn at that.]

Varis has a dilemma. A problem, predicament, pain in the ass. Zenos yae Galvus is its name, and running Gyr Abania into the ground seems to be the game. He sits in his office with a hand to his brow, hunched over and reading the newest report on his son’s shenanigans in the West. The finely written lines are beginning to blur together for how long he’s been staring at them, weary eyes crawling across accusations of professional misconduct and piss-poor leadership. His own _son_ , failing so miserably at what should be the simplest task of holding Ala Mhigo against the Resistance. Disorganized savages they are, easily scattered by a single airship bombing or something like it. Varis could do it himself if only he could be bothered – and for a moment, he considers sending one of his other Legatii to take over in Zenos’s place. But the thought of Zenos’s potential retaliation has him sinking deeper into his massive leather chair, unwilling to deal with his son’s sharp-tongued banter and thinly veiled threats. To think that he’ll be _Emperor_ some day sickens Varis to his stomach. Garlemald deserves better, especially from the line of House Galvus. They’ve had Solus, who ushered in the Magitek Revolution and brought the people warmth, jobs and infrastructure where once they had none at all. They have Varis, who struggles playing both Emperor and High Legatus in the thick of a war being fought on two fronts. One day, they might have Zenos, and by the _stars_ Varis does not want to think about that. Alas, he has no second heir, nor spouse with which to produce one. He doesn’t _want_ to marry again, be forced to couple with a woman he doesn’t even like when his tastes run firmly masculine. Whatever is he to do with this problem of his? This predicament, this pain in the ass?

He narrows his eyes and flicks the report away, paper fluttering as it skims along his polished desktop. He needs a new heir. Garlemald deserves a better future Emperor than Zenos could ever hope to be, and Varis knows he can breed from his loins one worthy of the Galvus name. But how? He begins to think on it, how he might produce the strongest, fairest and most just heir to the throne – not about raising them, but the step before that. The creation. The _seed_. Varis has always thought himself brutish and overlarge even for a pureblood, standing at eight and a half fulms in height with such magnificent endowment that his former wife had to be impregnated with a damn spoon. The memory brings a dour grimace to his face and he leans back in his chair, legs falling apart as usual to accommodate his size. It’s been so _long_ since he’s fucked. Or made love, for that matter, to even his own hand. He’s been so stressed that the thought of attending to such things has him reeling with guilt – he should be working, securing a stable future for his people, and most definitely not whacking off to shirk his responsibilities. He is the Emperor, after all. Garlemald comes first.

 _‘What am I to do with all this?’_ His eyes flick to the report, then back down into his lap, where the outline of his massive cock twitches against his leg. He usually keeps it strapped to his left, as all eighteen ilms of it are far too meaty to ever be constrained by mere fabric. No, this he has been wearing for decades, these thick leather straps that buckle nicely and don’t cut into him at all. The crotch of his pants certainly doesn’t want for space either, filled to the point of splitting seams thanks to his enormous, hefty balls. Varis runs one large hand idly along the inseam of his left thigh, feeling his neglected cock twitch curiously in response. Just what sort of person might be able to take such a thing? Certainly no pureblood that he’s yet seen – not even his old friend Regula could take him up the ass, pelvis far too narrow to even try. He wouldn’t breed a savage, or a halfblood for that matter, and so…

 _‘Wait a minute.’_ He’s the Emperor of Garlemald, the most technologically advanced nation on the star. He need not constrain himself to the realm of mere mortals when he could have a highly adaptable, genetically modified being in his lap within a fortnight. The missive he received last week from his spies in the Resonatorium leers at him from across his desk. Despite Zenos’s best efforts to keep the project under wraps, Varis had enough eyes planted in the XIIth to feed him all the information he desired about the whole sordid affair. He’s too far removed from the reality of it to really care about the ethical side, thinking only of how it might serve the Empire and in turn, serve him. A Resonant would surely be able to stretch around his monolithic cock and heal their way through a coupling, with their regenerative abilities making them suitable for both live combat and repetitive breeding. Not that such a thing would be necessary – Varis’s seed is potent enough to take with a mere drop, and he has _much_ more than that to give. The thought of it has his balls tightening, length twitching against his thigh. A fine, fertile Resonant kneeling at his feet and offering themselves willingly to serve their Emperor… Varis sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and closes his eyes, withdrawing his hand. He must abstain. This is a matter of grave import he must _think_ on, not just whack off to and forget about the minute he comes.

Varis begins drafting a missive to the Resonatorium a few minutes later, quill caught between meaty fingers shaking with excitement. They’ll give him just what he wants if he words it right – _by Royal decree, the strongest of the Resonant is to be sent to the Palace for evaluation._ The hardiest, most adaptable of all their modified subjects should do nicely. And it isn’t for the purpose of breeding just yet; Varis does want to examine one of them to see just what they’re capable of, and if they’ll suit his intentions. He pens something about documenting the scientific progress of the Resonant and something else about the Garlean race, and reads over the orders twice. _‘That’ll do.’_ He doesn’t get any of his advisors or Tribunii to read it – he hasn’t made use of them for personal matters before, and isn’t about to start. This is something Varis can do for himself, _wants_ for himself, and will seize with his own two hands.

It’s five days before he receives an urgent missive in reply, with the triangular seal of the Resonatorium stamped on the front. Varis is sitting on his throne when the courier delivers it to him, hands occupied with a particularly delicious pairing of wine and cheese. He gets his most loyal guard, Annia, to unfold the paper and hold it up so he can read while she turns her face away. Julia, standing on the opposite side, doesn’t dare sneak a peep. Varis munches on a handful of cheese cubes as the contents of the missive become known to him – apparently, there’s something going on with the Resonants this month and if he could please wait a little longer before having one delivered? Varis skims the rest of the pitiful denial and curls his lip in distaste. How _dare_ they ask him to wait? He, who works tirelessly to endure the survival of their race, the prosperity of their people, and the sanctity of the star beset by eikons and Ascians and beasts? He tips the rest of his wine down his throat and hands the glass to Annia, swapping it for the offending slip of paper.

 _Unbelievable. What do you mean, ‘something’s going on’? Is the Resonatorium not a secure laboratory environment immune to outside influences? What could possibly be- a mutiny among the staff, perhaps, or escaped subject, or chemical spill… unprecedented mutations… rrrgh.’_ Varis crushes the missive to a scrap and stuffs it into his breast pocket, black doublet with gilt edges straining to keep his muscular pecs from ripping through. He’s been training a little harder over the past few days, adding more weight to his routine so the burn of exertion overpowers his rising lust. Every hour of every day, Varis has spent obsessing over his perfect Resonant mate, from the texture of their skin to the colour of their hair. How tall might they be, and how strong their magics? He knows just enough about Resonance to assume it’s a heritable trait – it completely rejigs one’s genetic code, why _wouldn’t_ it be passed down to their young? Now he’s thinking about the process again, of sinking his cock into the pliant, willing body of his ideal mate. Pale and blonde, just like himself, to breed in the necessary traits of a trueborn Galvus. Never mind the colour of their eyes. If the child they produce together looks like they should sit the throne and grows into someone who acts like it, then Varis will consider his mission a success. All he has to do now is send word to the Resonatorium that no, he won’t wait, and that his demands _will_ be met lest the project be shut down and everyone in it shot. His fixated mind forgets to edit that out and by the time he’s sent his orders that afternoon, he’s already forgotten what he wrote. Varis does have much more pressing things to attend to, after all. What sort of questions is he going to ask the Resonant that arrives? And how exactly _are_ these people made? He can have one tailored to his personal specifics, can’t he?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rejoice, coomers, for after a whole ass year it's finally here! chapterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr twooooooo!!!

It’s another week before Varis’s personal Exemplarius – _Ideal_ in Garlean, and a common term at the Resonatorium for its subjects – arrives. Varis has been so lost in his thoughts he’s barely done any work, papers piled up around his desk left for his Tribunii to deal with and essentially run the Empire of their own accord. Varis trusts them enough to keep things stable, at least for a time while he deals with his own personal business. With his breeding imperative, spearheaded entirely by his cock and anxieties. Mighty things, both.

He’s in his office doodling on a bit of paper when the communications device atop his desk crackles to life, announcing the arrival of one _Lucius rem Batiatus_. Varis glances up at the door, quill spinning between his fingers. He knows that surname – anyone worth their salt among the higher echelons of Garlean society would recognize the most influential noble house second only to the royal family.   
“Enter.” He clicks a button on the device and his office door unlocks, reinforced steel sliding up a second later. Nerves racing, Varis exhales quietly only to suck his breath right back in the moment he lays eyes on the tasty morsel standing in the doorway. The Resonatorium has delivered him a creature of soft curves trapped in sharp angles, gilt plate armour cutting into thick, plump thighs that shift together shyly the longer Varis stares. The man’s face is finely carven ivory with a spattering of shrapnel scars along his jaw, high cheekbones and a slightly hooked nose the mark of highborn lineage, pure blood. His hair reaches down to mid-back, wavy tufts of platinum blonde hanging full and voluminous just like every other bit of him, enticing one to hold and feel and play. Varis’s fingers twitch unconsciously at the sight. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, wanting.

“Rem Batiatus…?” Damn his traitorous tongue for sounding so unsure – he should know exactly what he’s doing, sitting here all regal and composed and ready to do business – but he doesn’t want to, not any more. The curious, yet penetrating gaze of the Resonant opposite him seems to reach into his mind and pull at the thickest threads of his obsession, the desire he’s been nursing for weeks. He’s completely unaware of Lucius reading him for all he’s worth, crimson eyes bright and seeking knowledge without cease. What Lucius finds brings a shocked little flush to his cheeks, one ill-guised by the rapid blinking of long lashes and swipe of tongue across pink lips.

“Your Radiance…” Lucius takes a lone step closer and clunks a fist to his chest in salute, standing to attention before his Emperor. “I… come on behalf of the Resonatorium as the project’s most capable subject. It is an honor to serve.” His last few words seep out a little breathier than intended, and his glowing pupils are blown so wide they begin to eclipse the encircling red. All he can read from Varis is _lust_ , buried so poorly it might as well be a sign flashing above his head screaming LET ME BREED YOU, THANKS! There isn’t a single thing he can say about that, nor whatever he’s supposed to be doing here, so he falls back on the etiquette training drilled into him at the Academy.

It’s proper to maintain visual contact with a superior’s third eye, so Lucius tries to stare through Varis’s head as best he can. It’s mightily tempting to just let his eyes wander, however - seeing as Varis is clearly doing so without a hint of propriety at all. Varis ogles him nakedly, raw hunger permeating any sense of professionalism he could have possibly hoped to maintain. His thin lips have parted just enough to show a flash of sharp white teeth, which he sucks on as his golden gaze roves up and down Lucius’s form. From broad, sloping shoulders obscured only slightly by scalloped pauldrons to round, soft gut, Varis eats up the sight of his delectable little test subject like a man starved. It isn’t easy for Lucius to stand there and be appraised so – he can hardly keep himself still for the immense, primal urge to _squirm_. Not only that, but to peel away the layers of armour caging him in and sprawl out, presenting himself for a _proper_ inspection.

“So they finally managed to send me someone.” Varis murmurs, rubbing his thick fingers together with his eyes on those soft blonde curls. “About time. There was supposedly some… incident at the Resonatorium which prevented your sooner arrival. Know you anything of that?” He forces himself to stay on topic, to carry on with the business he intended to before Lucius walked through the door. _‘I could never have imagined something like this… someone so beautiful, and Exemplarius, too. Talk to me, boy; tell me what you are.’_

Lucius lifts a gauntleted hand to his lips, forgetting to ask permission to speak freely. The way he chews on the metal would be almost endearing, were it not for the way his soft, shapely mouth curves around it. Is he… _sucking_ on it? “Mmnn… It… it’s really nothing, Your Radiance, truly. A small, unprecedented biological imperative happened to afflict the vast majority of the subjects on the first day of Summer… and it’s persisted all throughout the month. Most have been rendered unfit for combat.” As Varis raises one thin brow, Lucius tries to elaborate. “It- it’s terribly inconvenient, really. But the XIIth has matters in Ala Mhigo under control, and…”

“I don’t care about that.” Varis interrupts, tapping two leather-gloved fingers against his desk. Even out of armour, his regal uniform bespeaks a dark, imposing threat that has Lucius aching to kneel before him and repent. “This… affliction. I assume you remain unaffected by it?” Why else would Lucius be here today were he not in tip-top shape for inspection? He certainly looks fine enough, though the size of his pupils and heat in his cheeks are more than a bit concerning. Perhaps he simply runs a high body temperature due to his aetherial enhancements – more energy vibrating throughout his cells and whatnot. Varis is a man of the sciences and not _wholly_ uneducated in the aetherial arts, and he’s read more than a few top-secret documents that were never meant to leave the Resonatorium. Those eyes, though. Bright white, ringed with red and set against glistening black sclerae. Varis can’t look at them for too long lest his head begin to hurt, the edges of his vision blurring with bright, quivering colors. He’s not only looking at a man, but a miracle of science and technology given form. One delivered straight into his lap.

Lucius parts his lips with a soft, wet _plick_ , wringing his gauntleted hands. “I… ah, well. Ahem. Despite my… considerable endurance and defensive abilities, I am yet Exemplarius – er, Resonant, that is. I’ve been affected too, but not nearly as badly as the others.” He sees Varis’s next question coming before the Emperor draws breath and squeezes his thighs together as tight as he can. His greaves creak together ominously.

“What of these affects? What symptoms – do you need a Medicus, boy? You look about ready to collapse.” Varis stands, finely cut suit clinging to his huge, towering form. Lucius squeaks and his eyes pulse brighter for a moment, before catching sight of something that damn near shocks him unconscious. As Varis rounds the corner of his desk, the play of light from the ceruleum fixtures in the ceiling shines bright upon the outline of his cock. It’s _strange_ , like a third leg stuffed into his trousers and kept there by some unknown force. It bulges obscenely with every step, and Lucius can’t take his eyes off it. Nor can he keep his jaw locked shut as it hangs agape, tongue peeking over his lower lip. Such glorious meat truly befits His Radiance, though it seems he’s having trouble walking the closer he gets to Lucius. Lucius, whose heat-stricken aethers have by now permeated the room with a thick, lustful haze, hot and humid like a whole-ass greenhouse. He does feel quite like a dog in heat, come to think of it, wholly consumed by thoughts of bending himself over to be mated – and it would honestly frighten him were he not so eager for it. For this is his _Emperor_ , the epitome of Imperial justice and might, and judging by the size of his huge, swollen balls straining at the seams of his crotch, he’s quite eager too.

Speechless, Lucius stands gaping (well, more gawking, the gaping shall come later he hopes) until Varis is right before him, peering down his fine nose into Lucius’s flustered face. Varis breathes in deep, then bends a little to inhale the rich, sweet scent rising from Lucius’s neck. He can’t reach any lower than the crown of that soft blonde hair while still remaining proper, and his legs shift apart to afford his cock a bit more room to grow.

“You…” Varis growls, straightening up and folding his arms over his chest “Most certainly could use _some_ manner of assistance.” He clicks his tongue, gesturing idly with a sweeping hand motion down his bicep. “Take off your armour. It’s clearly ill-fitted to you.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Lucius’s autonomous response shudders out along with a sigh of relief as he undoes his belt first, stomach surging out into his finely embroidered tabard. The crimson fabric bulges outwards as do his huge, thick thighs the moment his tassets and greaves fall away. Holding all the pieces, he looks up at Varis questioningly. “Ah, where should I… put these?” Varis merely nods to his desk and Lucius carefully sets each piece down, so as not to scratch the finely polished granite top. His pauldrons and breastplate come off in no time at all, then his vambraces and gauntlets. When he turns back to his Emperor, Varis’s eyes flick up from where they’d been staring at his enormously plump backside. Before Lucius can say a word, half-turned and peering coyly over one shoulder, Varis speaks in a voice of molten steel too hot to beat into an edge.

“You’re awfully _fat_ for a soldier, boy. Is that part of the Resonance, augmenting your aethers and filling you out? I would’ve thought you comprised of muscle, not this.” Even as he degrades the man, his cock strains at the splitting fabric of his trousers like he wants to dive between those thick cheeks and fuck them raw. And he _does_ – Lucius reads it as easily as he spies the sheer hunger on Varis’s face, hears the cry of his soul to join, mate, breed. “When’s the last time you saw combat, mm?” Varis certainly isn’t disappointed as Lucius faces him fully, leaning back against the desk with his wide hips canted forth and his belly sticking out. The usual uniform of the XIIth hugs his curves tight, red-strapped shirt tucked into skintight pants with more than a few seams split along the outside. Without his armour hiding them, his pale flesh bulges through the gaping holes. The rest of him still remains mostly decent, or so Varis thinks until he gets a look between Lucius’s legs. Nestled in a convergence of flesh – thighs, stomach and all – lies a very distinct patch of wetness Lucius seems intent on hiding from his Emperor’s view. Varis stares as the poor soldier struggles to compose a reply.

“I- I, five months, Sir. I’ve been undergoing testing in the labs, and… nnn…” He runs a hand down his front, trying to tug his shirt a little lower and succeeding only in baring a sliver of his plump chest. “We’re…. not meant to be fighting d-during this time. This… affliction, it was built into us, you see, for the purpose of… of…” When he trails off, hand dipping behind to push himself off the desk and stand up straight, Varis prompts him to continue.

“Of what? Surely you know more of this Resonant business than I.” He takes a step closer, devouring Lucius with his curious golden gaze. “What strange malady did they build into you that renders you so incapable of speaking to your Emperor properly? Look at me.” Glowing eyes flick up, then immediately dart away as Lucius reads the mounting desire in Varis’s aethers. It’s _intoxicating_ , and he’s already so wet it looks like he’s pissed himself. Face flushed with shame, he lowers his head.

“I only… know what they tell me, Your Radiance. We can cast magic, and it can be- be passed down to our children, if we have them.” He dares to peek up when Varis sucks in a sharp breath, holding it for Lucius to continue. “We’re… made to be fertile.”

“And are you?” The words spill from Varis’s lips unbidden, rough-edged with sudden need. The thought excites him far more than he can handle, that this beautiful, strong young man could possibly take with child. _His_ child, a trueborn Galvus seeded within the lush depths of Lucius’s plump, pliant body.

“I would very much like to think so.” Lucius glances aside shyly, chewing on his lower lip with a delicate hand raised to his mouth. “We all have the capability to change our bodies as we wish – we’re quite able to breed, so we can spread the ability to wield aether into new generations. Or so I’ve been told…” Peering up through his thick, dark lashes, his eyes glow brighter as Varis’s lecherous thoughts become known to him. They’re a little hard to make out in the lustful haze permeating the space between them, aethers hot and cloying honey-sweet from Lucius, virile musk radiating from Varis. Lucius dares to breathe in just a little deeper with his chin tilted up, catching on the air the scent of Varis’s powerful masculinity and yearning to bury himself in it. There’s also a hint of fresh, clean cologne somewhere in there, lingering by the cuffs and lapels of his fine suit. Lucius is unaware that his lips have parted until he feels a trickle of drool run down the side of his mouth, and it’s too late to keep from gawking at His Radiance now. Varis peers into the lad’s lust-drenched eyes with his own molten gold, leaning down until their faces almost touch. His immense height keeps him from doing so successfully, and so he has to bend his knees a tad to whisper into Lucius’s ear. Lucius’s ass presses against the desk, melting atop the polished surface.  
“Would you like to? Further our race, breed me an heir worthy of the throne?” His voice is of hot gravel rolled in the deepest pits of the earth, and Lucius squeezes his fat thighs together to keep from coming undone. They’re quivering. Varis lifts a massive hand and grasps Lucius’s face between his thick, meaty fingers, smushing soft cheeks careless of his own strength. “You’re certainly fine enough… Oh, yes. You shall sire me a lovely little Galvus. Maybe two, or three, if you’re as fertile as you claim. Would you like that, boy?”

Lucius can only nod so eagerly with Varis holding him, and babbles vehement affirmation. “Anything for you. For the Empire.” He shuts his eyes then as a fierce, darkened blush blooms across his pale face, fresh slick gushing from his heated core. He’s so ready. And Varis catches wind of the scent the minute Lucius shifts his thighs, an obscenely wet _shlck_ coming from between them. Varis can barely stay crouched for how hard he is, cock straining at the straps now cutting into his aching flesh. The hand at Lucius’s chin slides into soft blonde curls and clenches into a fist, pulling tight to crane his neck back. Varis breathes deeply the scent of hot, sweet fertility, driven to lave his tongue along Lucius’s bared throat tasting lust and sweat and hope. He growls softly into Lucius’s ear, a low rumble almost unintelligible for its depth.

“You _would_ enjoy that, won’t you? Fulfilling your purpose to the Empire once and for all, being mated by your Emperor himself. Mmmhmm, such a privilege… We shall see if you are worthy of it.” He’s barely thinking as he shifts to manhandle Lucius onto his feet, swiftly positioning himself behind him a moment later. Lucius squirms and leans into his touch, legs spreading wider until Varis grabs him by the waist and lifts him up, testing his weight.

 _‘Urgh, he’s heavy…’_ Varis sets him down, running his massive hands all over Lucius’s figure. He cups a pert, plump breast in one hand, jiggling it lightly before moving on to that warm, round stomach. _‘I wonder if he’s eaten today? If he’s got enough room in there for **me**?’_ He can’t bear the pressure any more and reaches down to unstrap his cock, yanking it out of his trousers while his balls sit engorged with enough seed to breed a Legion. He rests it hard and pulsing against Lucius’s fat ass, reveling in how the man wriggles back against him, hot and needy. With one hand plastered to Lucius’s chest, his other dips down to unbutton those ridiculously tight trousers. The first button just snaps right off, and Lucius groans sweetly with relief. Varis’s leather-gloved fingers quest lower, sliding through something wet and hot, soft with an abundance of excess flesh. Further down and some pressure elicit a fullbodied shudder from Lucius, along with a thin, shaking gasp. Varis cranes his neck around to glimpse the look on his face, a wicked smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“Just how fertile _are_ you, dear Lucius?” His fingers are huge, gloved moreso and rough against the tight silk of Lucius’s panties. He’s fascinated, a new excitement to his tone and motions as he quests around keen to know, keen to explore. Lucius’s breath comes shallow and desperate as slick pours from him in waves, squelching obscenely down his inner thighs. He’s so tight Varis can’t even get a single finger in when he nudges the sodden fabric aside, knuckles forcing Lucius’s trousers to accommodate his wide hand. That sweet, fertile scent multiplies tenfold, and Varis is awfully tempted to bury his face between those fat thighs and drink it up. Instead, shaking with restraint, he lifts his fingers to his mouth and suckles them, breathing in deep only to moan it out moments later. “Ohhhh… this is _perfect_. I see now, why they call you _Exemplari_.”

Lucius whimpers, dripping and aching to be filled yet far too tight to handle more than his own two fingers. “Y’ Radiance,” he breathes, “I- I, aahnnn…” He can’t say it, not to his _Emperor_ , and so he takes the initiative to push one hand between his legs and toy with himself, curling long, deft fingers up into his cunt. “Mmnnnnn…”

“Let me see you.” Varis growls, and dumps Lucius out of his lap only to haul him onto the desk and step back, hand to his cock. It’s the first time Lucius gets a good look at it, scrambling to lean against the surface he’s been so unceremoniously thrown against. Varis has his left hand wrapped around the heft of his imposing, majestic length, showing Lucius how massive he is as the lad just stares, sex twitching in anticipation. “You want this, boy? Want to be bred for the glory of Garlemald?”

Lucius nods, breathless and quivering as he spreads his lips and stretches himself, steaming aether-rich juices dripping from his glistening knuckles onto the floor. His trousers are too tight to have fallen far, but they’re open enough for Varis to get a lovely eyeful of just what his little Resonant is doing. As Lucius struggles for a third finger, Varis tries his damndest to keep from jerking himself off. Even with both of his massive hands wrapped around his cock, the engorged head juts past his grip and pulses needily, obscene. Thick and vulgar, it drips with ivory precum which now pours from him in excess – his balls will burst if they swell any further, and so out it comes in a steady stream. Lucius watches and licks his lips unconsciously, fucking himself on his fingers as best he can. Never mind that he’s never actually done it with anyone before – the images filling Varis’s mind are all he needs to fuel his imagination.

“I want you to spend the rest of tonight doing this.” Varis commands, squeezing along the length of his fat, dripping cock. “Until you can get your hand in. Understand? I’m going to have you tomorrow, so you’d best be prepared.”

“Oh yes,” Lucius keens, “Please have me, please, please…! Want you to, nnhhaah, fuck me unconscious, fill me with your seed, _please_ …”

“Rrrrgh.” Varis’s cock throbs, and a spurt of precum spatters against the polished wooden floor. “You tempt me far too much. But I will resist until I can have every ilm of you for myself. Inside and out. You belong to the Empire, boy, you belong to _me_.” The way Lucius’s head lolls is all the confirmation Varis needs, and he forces his hands to still, cock still leaking like a pipe ready to burst. “You shall have the finest tailored clothes and dine on Garlemald’s best tonight, and every night after should you desire it.”

“I doooo….” Lucius moans, abruptly spasming off the desk and almost to the floor when Varis catches him and cradles his shaking body. “Your Radia…a..aAH!!” He wails into Varis’s chest as his climax obliterates his whole being, rendering him senseless in the wake of such all-consuming bliss. He’s boneless by the end of it, trousers drenched with a pool of his juices forming on the floor, and it’s the most filthy, beautiful thing Varis has ever seen.

He’s definitely going to need new clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> (the second chapter is a WIP and I will take forever to post it, but bc I don't want this finely tagged draft to disappear I'm posting it prematurely. gang gang.)


End file.
